


Overdue

by miera



Series: Worthless [14]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-ep, 3.20 "The Forgotten." (05/14/2004)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdue

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most obvious missing scene from 3.20 "The Forgotten" that everyone else was thinking of as well.

Trip walked through the corridors swiftly and purposefully...well as swiftly and purposefully as he could with the debris and blown lights everywhere still. Once he got closer to his destination, his path opened up, reminding him how much use this section of the ship had gotten lately. He kept walking, not allowing himself to hesitate. He needed to do this. This conversation was very, very far overdue.

Sickbay was never quiet these days. Several people were still in the deep space equivalent of intensive care, and a steady stream of visitors and medical personnel came in and out. The repairs were generating their own set of new injuries, mostly minor, with one very notable exception. Who was currently sitting on a biobed with the resigned air of a martyr.

"Trip? Is something wrong?" Malcolm's forehead creased with worry, seeing the set look on Trip's face.

Trip leaned against the empty biobed next to Malcolm. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were here for your check up like the Doc ordered," he nagged, unable to restrain himself from a little good natured tweaking. Malcolm had gone right back on duty as soon as he was lucid enough, despite nearly being roasted alive out on the hull. He had been needed on the Bridge, it turned out, but Phlox wanted Malcolm back in for regular check ups over the next 24 hours.

Malcolm made a face at him. "It wasn't that bad."

"Yeah, it really was, Mal."

"I'm fine now."

"You could've died."

Trip saw Malcolm stiffen, gearing up for a fight. "If I hadn't gotten that valve open, the entire crew would have died!"

"I know," Trip said softly. His gentle agreement seemed to take the wind right out of Malcolm's sails. He looked at Trip for a long minute. With a small sigh, his spine unbent and he looked down at his feet.

"Anyway, I didn't come here to yell at you for nearly getting killed out on the hull again. Although I am starting to see a pattern here."

Malcolm's mouth twisted in his customary wry grin. Trip realized it had been quite a while since he had seen it. Far too long, in fact. "I think the pattern extends beyond just my being out of the ship. Every time I get into trouble, I'm with you or the Captain. I should stop going anywhere with either of you."

Trip chuckled. "Too bad your job is babysitting us when we go charging into peril outside the ship." That struck a little to close to home, what with Jon's recent attempted suicide mission, not to mention all the peril they seemed to be encountering just by trying to get through a day without the ship blowing up around them.

"Yes, pity, that." Malcolm nodded absently. "So what did you come here for?"

Trip swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. But he made himself move, so that he was leaning against Malcolm's biobed, the two of them side by side. He owed Malcolm this. It was the least he could do, but it was a start. "I came to tell you that you were right, and that I'm sorry."

He couldn't help but grin a little as Malcolm processed that. He could practically see Malcolm skimming his memory for what in hell Trip could be apologizing for, and then coming up utterly blank. "Thank you. Care to tell me what I was right about? This time?" he added, eyebrows up.

Trip swallowed again, looking down. "Lizzie." There was a pause, during which Trip didn't look up. Malcolm's feet, which were dangling slightly off the floor, twitched a tiny bit, swaying back and forth without him even knowing, probably. Trip sighed. "Before we left Earth, you tried to tell me, to help me. Get me to deal with what happened. I didn't listen, and I treated you like shit for a while-"

Malcolm made a noise of protest, putting a hand on Trip's forearm. Trip shook his head, looking up. "You know I did. I thought I could do something, balance it out somehow. Make it not hurt so much. I was wrong, and I ended up hurting a friend instead."

For a brief moment, while Malcolm's guard was down, Trip saw the expression on the normally tightly controlled face change. Malcolm had so few close friends, Trip could tell what he was saying meant a great deal to the younger man.

"I know it's kind of late, but I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for...hell, I'm sorry for a lot of things, Malcolm."

Malcolm squeezed Trip's arm. He opened his mouth to speak and then paused, clearly unsure what to say or do in response. He fumbled for a bit, and then said quietly, "I wanted to help you."

The sad tone of his voice made guilt cut through Trip all over again. "I know."

"I'm just not very good at that kind of thing."

"Mal-"

"No, I mean, if you'd needed something blown up or some such, I might've been more useful."

Trip grinned. "You're plenty useful to me, Malcolm." He nudged the man with his shoulder. "But you gotta stay alive for that, you hear? I need you alive..." His voice caught, a surge of emotion catching him by surprise. The memory of Malcolm keeling over in slow motion out on the hull, the frantic sounds coming through the comm in his ear as he clumsily dragged the inert body towards the airlock, then watching helplessly as the medical team practically tore an unconscious Malcolm out of his EV suit and carried him away, all flooded Trip unexpectedly.

Malcolm could've died. Just another casualty of their mission, another name on a long and growing list of victims, except that this wasn't some junior crewmember he didn't even know all that well. It was Malcolm, his colleague. His friend. He gulped down some air, not wanting to think about what that loss would mean, but unable to stop.

Malcolm's hand slipped down and came to rest on top of Trip's, which was pushing heavily against the padded cushion of the bed. Malcolm's warm fingers squeezed gently, and Trip grabbed his hand, savoring the heat and slight dampness of sweat as signs of life.

He leaned into Malcolm, their shoulders touching. "Don't die on me, ok?" He looked up, knowing that there were no guarantees. It could've been today, it could happen tomorrow, both of them could be dead before tomorrow even got here. But he wanted to hear Malcolm promise, whatever hollow comfort that might give.

He saw all of that knowing reflected in Malcolm's face. But he nodded calmly. "I'll try." His fingers pressured Trip's again. "But the same goes for you."

There was a ghost of that lopsided smirk and Trip laughed, rolled his eyes and didn't let go of Malcolm's hand. "Deal."


End file.
